Love Grows: Steve Harrington's Girl Next Door

1985: Trespass Sweetly Urged

"Hey... Steve."

"Hey, Ro..."

The girl in the window opposite's face flushes hotly. Meanwhile, Steve stands with his fists clenched awkwardly by his sides.

Not a lot was done about their night spent together a few weeks ago, when he tapped on the glass to be let in, when she cleaned his bruised and beaten face.

Sure, there were a couple stolen kisses here and there on the rooftop, alongside a few risky touches - knee brushes, longing stares, fingers intertwining with each other, all met with a palpable silence.

But nothing really happened beyond that.

Until now, just after Rosemary thought Steve was out, when she could've sworn he mentioned he had a shift at Family Video.

But no, because he's there, just across the trellis, staring at her in her underwear.

"Uhhh," Steve begins. "Whatcha doin', Rosie?" He asks, also blushing like mad.

She releases a quick, breathy laugh.

"Um, I'm in my room? Minding my own business?" She gestures wide before folding her arms across her chest. Not like that does much good.

"Yeah, yeah. I can see that." Steve stares, transfixed, hypnotised by her pale, slender body, illuminated by the slanted summer sun. Then, it hits him like a freight train, punctuated by an, "Oh!" And he immediately drops his eyes to the ground. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I'm such a fucking creep."

He starts to babble incoherently, utterly mortified. And the words come trickling freely from his lips like a waterfall, spluttering out, unable to stop even though he wants so badly to stop. He starts by complimenting her body then immediately backtracks, insisting he didn't mean it in a weird sort of way, and how he thought maybe he was supposed to look, and how stupid it was to think that but he couldn't help it because that one time they made out he touched her boob and oh God, did he just say boob? What is he, like 5? And he totally understands if she never, ever wants to speak to him again and-

"-Steve," Rosemary interrupts.

"Yeah?"

"It's okay," she assures and he relaxes. That is, until she says, "I want you to look at me."

"You, what?"

"I want you to look," she repeats calmly, absolutely certain.

Reassured, but still with his heart in his mouth, Steve drags his eyes from the floor to the girl in the window. Rosemary stands there, unphased and fucking beautiful, and Steve hopes to Christ he hasn't dribbled down his chin because his mouth and his brain have lost all connection.

She's smiling that pretty, warm smile of hers, with her hands clasped behind her back so her half-naked body sways slightly, but in an adorable, coy sort of way that gets Steve's pulse racing. As permitted, he allows his gaze to drift slowly over every inch of her petal-soft skin that he so desperately wants to touch.

Steve swallows, throat thick and chest hammering which only makes Rosemary smile all the more.

"Uh," he tries to chuckle, in the hopes it will put a stop to the filthy thoughts that run rampant through his head. And he asks, half-joking, "Is your dad gonna kill me now?" But his voice comes out a lot tighter than he'd planned, and he has to clear his throat to keep his cool.

"My folks are away," she simply states.

"Say that again?" His face lights up.

"I said, my parents are on vacation... all week."